


Can't Let Her Go

by unibadger2



Category: Supernatural
Genre: Angels, Angst, Death, F/M, Grieving, ressurection
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2017-06-26
Updated: 2017-07-05
Packaged: 2018-11-19 11:12:15
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Major Character Death
Chapters: 2
Words: 1,379
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/11312184
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/unibadger2/pseuds/unibadger2
Summary: You struggled for breath as you sprinted through the dark woods. You didn't dare look behind you at the demon on your heels, too afraid of tripping on something. You could hear fast paced footfalls getting closer and closer. You ran faster.You broke through the trees, entering an open field. Whipping around to face the demon, you were barely able to make out its face in the dark night. The demon smiled at the sight of the angel blade Cas had given to you earlier.“Silly girl,” the demon purred. “You think a fancy little knife’s going to help you?”





	1. Chapter 1

You struggled for breath as you sprinted through the dark woods. You didn't dare look behind you at the demon on your heels, too afraid of tripping on something. You could hear fast paced footfalls getting closer and closer. You ran faster.

You broke through the trees, entering an open field. Whipping around to face the demon, you were barely able to make out its face in the dark night. The demon smiled at the sight of the angel blade Cas had given to you earlier.

“Silly girl,” the demon purred. “You think a fancy little knife’s going to help you?” 

Adjusting your grip on the blade, you ran at the demon. It waited for you to get closer before it brought out a large knife. You swiped at the demon, aiming for its chest. The demon blocked your blow and punched you in the face. Wiping blood from your face, you kicked out a foot underneath the demon’s legs, and it crashed to the ground. Panting, you dropped to the ground and pinned the demon down.

“Well, my fancy knife certainly isn’t helping _you_ ,” you brought the angel blade down into the demon’s chest. There was a flash of hellfire, then nothing. You stood up and dusted yourself off. You began your walk back towards the impala, hoping Sam and Dean were there waiting for you. 

“Y/N!” Turning around you saw Dean walking towards you, a tired smile on his face. “Demon’s dead?” Dean called. You nodded in confirmation and jogged over to him. You wrapped your arms around his neck and smiled when he pressed a kiss to the side of your head. You broke apart hesitantly, hands still intertwined. 

“What, you think I couldn't handle a lone demon? Who do you think I am?” You teased. Dean chuckled.

“Let’s get home. I'm exhausted,” he groaned, his head lolling back slightly.

“Yeah,” you agreed. “I’d _kill_ for a nice warm-” you gasped as you felt a sharp blade pierce your heart from behind.

Dean couldn't stop the bleeding in time.

* * *

“Dean,” Sam rested a hand on his brother’s shoulder. “You need to sleep. You haven't eaten anything in two days.” Dean didn't look up.

“Not hungry,” he grunted, brushing off Sam’s hand. Honestly, Dean was starving, but he knew he wouldn't be able to keep down anything he ate. He had told Sammy he wasn't tired either, but he felt like he was about to kneel over any second now. But he couldn't sleep. He couldn't watch you die again. He couldn't watch the light drain from your eyes, couldn't watch you weak in his arms, couldn't watch your hand fall from his cheek as you died. He couldn’t-

“Dean!” Sam’s voice brought Dean out of his stupor with a jolt. Dean shifted in his chair and turned to look blankly at his brother. “Dean,” Sam said, his eyes softening. “You’ve read almost every book on resurrection the bunker has, twice. We called Cas and he said he couldn't do anything. Maybe it’s time to just... let her go.”

Anger flashed through Dean. How _dare_ he. Sam didn't understand. He didn't understand how it felt to wake up to a lonely bed, one side unusually cold and barren. Sam didn't understand how it felt to watch the love of your life die in front of you when you couldn't do anything. He didn't understand the feeling of wanting everything to be over.

The rational part of Dean told him that Sam did understand; he went through the same thing when Jess died. But grief ruled the majority of Dean’s mind and suppressed any rational thinking.

“I can't just _let her go, Sam_ ,” Dean growled. “Because every time I close my eyes, I see her. I see everything we’ve been through together and I see her dying. So don't just tell me to let her go.”

Dean knocked his coffee cup off the table and it shattered on the floor.

* * *

Gasping for air, you pushed yourself onto your elbows. You took a panicked glance around and found yourself sitting on damp grass in the middle of a forest. Taking a shaky breath in, you tried to calm yourself. You didn't recognize any of the tall trees around you, and couldn't remember how you got there. 

The faint memory of warmth and comfort lingered in your mind. Had you been dead? What little you could remember of the past few months certainly seemed like heaven, though it had been missing one thing; Dean. 

_I should probably find him before he does something stupid, if he hasn't already._

It wasn't like Dean hadn’t sold his soul for somebody he cared about before. You didn't doubt that he had tried to do it again, especially considering all the people he’d lost. Swallowing hard, you pushed yourself onto shaky legs and hoped that both Sam and Dean were okay.


	2. Chapter 2

During the long bus ride to Lebanon, Kansas, you rummaged through your pockets, bringing up a crumpled twenty dollar bill and a switchblade. Sighing in defeat, you rested your head against the dirty bus window. You weren't necessarily surprised that you were alive again; Sam and Dean had both died and come back to life multiple times before. But there was one question nagging you: _who- what_ brought you back?

It wasn't like anybody would bring you back just for kicks; everybody had an ulterior motive. When Castiel brought Dean back from hell, it was because heaven needed to kickstart the apocalypse. Michael didn't bring Sam back to life out of the kindness of his heart, either, he brought Sam back because he wanted to work out his “issues” with his brother via world-ending brawl.

So, all things considered, you realized one thing: you were totally screwed.

* * *

“Y/N?” Dean’s voice was exactly as you remembered it. Rough, but gentle and comfortingly familiar. It was the same voice that murmured with yours in bed at night when you couldn't sleep. It was the voice that you sang old rock songs with in the Impala during long stretches of driving from one hunt to another. 

Without wasting a second, Dean stepped forward, gathering you tightly in his arms. You wrapped your arms around his waist, burying your face in his chest and breathing in the familiar scent of leather and gunpowder. Dean had a fistful of your shirt in his hands, as if he was afraid you would disappear again if he let go.

“You were dead,” he whispered. “I saw you die.” Dean’s voice cracked and you held on tighter.

“I know,” you answered softly. There was a moment of silence before you asked hesitantly, “How long?” Dean tensed against you. “How long have I been... dead?” Dean swallowed, eyes flashing painfully, unbeknownst to you.

“Eight months.” He rested a hand on your shoulder and pulled back, albeit reluctantly. Neither of you mentioned the tears glimmering in each other's eyes. “How’d you get back?” His voice was scratchier than before.

You could tell that Dean was just as afraid as you were. Whenever something good happened to the Winchesters it always seemed to turn sour quick. Why would this be any different?

“I don't know,” you murmured, shaking your head. 

You ran your palm over a gash on his cheek, probably the result of a recent hunt. But when you pulled your hand away, it was gone. “Dean,” you gasped, pulling your tingling hand away.

“What?” Dean’s voice was concerned and held a hint of panic.

“Something’s wr-”

Both of you jumped as the light above your heads burst and went out, sending a shower of sparks down onto you. You gripped Dean’s sleeve as the rest of the bulbs in the room followed suit, plunging you into darkness. “Dean?” You whispered, your eyes straining to see his face. You felt Dean press a gun into your hand.

Your heads snapped towards the bunker’s door as you heard the old rusty hinges squeaking in protest. A man loomed in the entrance, his bulky frame blocking out the light streaming in from outside. You swallowed thickly as you felt a trace of recognition, as if you’d met this man before. Then it hit you.

He's the one who busted you out of heaven.


End file.
